Lucky Underpants
by Hoodoo
Summary: Murdock and Face become members of the Mile High Club; written as a challenge response for the A-Team Prompts on LJ. Implied slash.


Disclaimer: none are mine. Written as a response to a Prompt Challenge on the A-Team Prompts at Livejournal. Rated for implied boom-boom-sexy-time.

Note: one visual prop is recommended. See note at the end of the story for link.

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><p>Face, who was pretty secure in his sexuality and who was not unfamiliar with various styles, shapes, and colors, hated them.<p>

He'd actually jerked his hands back and almost, almost pulled out of Murdock's embrace as he glanced down to facilitate the removal of everyone's pants. When he happened to catch sight of (as those loose-fitting cargos slipped so awesomely off Murdock's slim waist) Murdock's underwear, he thought later his involuntary reaction was understandable.

"Uhm . . . uh. Oh," he said very eloquently.

His tongue, suddenly stuck to the roof of his mouth by an unexpected dryness, clicked as he forced a swallow.

"Oh. Wow," he managed to say, he thought. "Those aren't regulation, are they?"

"None of this is regulation, Facey," Murdock grunted.

He'd taken over the stripping when Face had stuttered to a halt, but didn't seem to notice the freezing up. He shifted his legs and his pants were kicked off one foot to the rear of the small cockpit.

"Come on, Faceman—this party can really get started if you get your offending pants off too. And watch the yoke."

_My_ offending pants? Face choked to himself.

Murdock's fingers—like Face's had been, before the immobilization—quickly unbelted, unzipped, and pushed the final pair of trousers to the floor as well. Murdock obligingly dropped to his knees to help him slip his legs out of his pants, and then licked his way back up Face's front till they were face to face again.

Face was able to drag his gaze from Murdock's remaining piece of clothing back up as the pilot caught him in another kiss. His lips were still dry, however, and the kiss was less passionate than what they'd shared just before, when they'd joked around about doing this and it became the best idea ever.

Murdock's eyes flicked to the array of dials to his left and he tapped altimeter.

"Five thousand, two hundred ninety feet," he announced.

He scanned a few more of the instruments, and, satisfied, turned back to Face.

Murdock pulled up, blinked, and studied his partner with the same intensity he'd given the controls.

"You look like a startled deer, Facey," he said in a quiet voice. "Like you're gonna bolt."

Face opened and closed his mouth once without producing sound.

Carefully, Murdock took his hands and continued. "You okay? We don't have to—I mean, this isn't how we have to actually, finally do this—"

That wasn't true. They'd pussy-footed around long enough; they had taken enough tentative baby-steps around an actual relationship that they _did_ have to do this. It was right; it was now. Face couldn't think of a better way to consummate everything he'd felt and everything he wanted than to take pleasure in this man a mile above the earth.

But then again . . . that _underwear._

He choked something to that effect.

"What, these?" Murdock said dismissively. "They're my lucky underpants. But they come off, just like other underpants."

And he demonstrated.

Like a flip had been switched, once those tight, rainbow-print Mundo Unico shorts had been ditched, Face was on him.

Afterward, sated and elated and chuckling at memory of the scramble for lube—a small packet was in one of the many pockets of Murdock's cargos; Face teased him for carrying it around "just in case" and Murdock teased back that he was astounded Face _didn't_—the two continued to playfully kiss as they cleaned up.

Murdock let the autopilot work a bit longer as he pulled his clothes back on, and then sat down without completely fastening his pants.

Face did the same, minus the unzipped trousers. He knew that Murdock needed to concentrate now on getting back into serious pilot mode, calling the tower and getting permission and coordinates for the final approach, but he couldn't help continually touching the other man's shoulder, hair, clothed thigh.

His eyes were repeatedly drawn to Murdock's groin too, mostly due to the recent glorious proximity of it, but also because those rainbowed short boxers were still visible.

Murdock caught him looking, and grinned.

"Lucky underpants, huh?" Face asked with a pretty grimace.

"Got lucky today," Murdock replied saucily.

Face snorted.

"Maybe they'd be lucky for you too," Murdock said in contemplation, and leaned over.

Their lips brushed and their tongues met, and through the molten desire building again in his gut, Face had to agree.

_fin._

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><p>If you'd like to see Murdock's underpants, type in www(dot)internationaljock(dot)com(backslash)mundo-unico-micro-short-boxer,15669(dot)html<p>

Obviously replace the (dots) and (backslash), but the hyphens are correct.

Enjoy! :)


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